


Take A Bow

by cakeby_thepound



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:13:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeby_thepound/pseuds/cakeby_thepound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michonne is dealing with a lot of guilt over Glenn's possible death. So when Rick comes in with the worst possible news, she finds herself at wit's end. </p>
<p>(Angsty Richonne one-shot. Timeframe: Episode 6x05)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take A Bow

Michonne sat in her room, staring out of the window, despite Rick's instructions to keep the blinds closed, watching as darkness fell over their small community. The streets were empty, but she could hear the soft growl of the walkers at their gates. And it was eerie, literally hearing death at their door. A sense of impending doom had taken over her home, her head, her heart.

She leaned over, her elbows rested on her knees as she thought about Glenn. Daryl, Abe, and Sasha were probably okay, she figured, but it had been hours without any sign of Glenn, and it had begun to eat away at her. She felt the tears roll down her cheeks when she considered that she would never see him again. That Maggie would never see him again. Because she'd failed to get him home.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door, and she sighed, wiping the tears with her thumb as she picked herself up to answer. She hoped it was anyone but Rick, because she knew he would ask what the hell happened, and she didn't have the strength to recount it all; not after having to tell Maggie.

But of course it was Rick, standing there with a bloody bandage on his left hand, holding it up for her to see, and a first-aid kit in his right. "You think you could help me out?" he greeted her.

She nodded for him to take a spot on her bed, while she pulled up a chair to sit in front of him. And she didn't speak as she unwrapped his injured hand to reveal the disgusting cut that he'd received earlier in the day. So much blood. She knew Carol had already wrapped his hand just a few hours prior, and already, it had soaked through. She inwardly hoped that nothing serious was wrong with it.

Rick watched as she silently worked, wondering what was on her mind; knowing it could've been about a million different things, at that point. It'd been an eventful day, to say the least. "You okay?" he decided to ask, as that question usually got the conversation going between them.

She simply nodded, but the grimace on her face was giving her away.

"Nothing has happened yet, Michonne. Everything could still be fine."

She looked up at him then, wondering how he could say that after hearing the details of the attack from The Wolves. "Do you have any idea how many people we lost today?"

He nodded, realizing that he was doing that thing where he treated the Alexandrians as expendable nobodies. "I don't mean it that way," he reconsidered. "I just mean… Glenn could still be fine."

"Right." Sighing, she continued her task of redressing his wound, using a large pad of cotton to gently dab alcohol on it. She imagined it must've stung like hell, but noticed that he didn't react at all. "You know, I always thought there was something beautiful about your compassion, Rick."

Rick gazed at her, waiting for her to go on; when she didn't say anything, he quirked an eyebrow. "Thank you…"

"I was just putting it out there," she shrugged, not looking up from her work. "That day I first came to the prison, when you guys found Carol? That vulnerability you allowed yourself to show. That was the only reason I decided to stay."

"The only reason?"

"The main reason," she corrected herself. "I saw a man with a good heart, that I felt comfortable following. And I didn't come to that decision lightly or easily."

He studied her face as she spoke, wondering why she was telling him this now. "And what's your point?"

"My point is that since we've gotten here, it feels like that man is disappearing before my eyes."

"We've been through a lot since then, Michonne."

"We have. And I understand the coldness that crept in while we were out there on the road." She began to quickly wrap the fresh bandage around his hand, but her eyes managed to fixate on his wedding ring, and she slowed nearly to a halt, her mind flashing to David and his wife, Betsy. She lost her train of thought.

"But…"

Michonne let out a sharp exhale, fighting back tears again as she looked Rick in the eye, finally. "But… maybe Alexandria wasn't the best place for us, in the end. Maybe we're not cut out for this life anymore."

"You mean maybe I'm not."

"I don't know if I just mean you," she answered honestly. "But it's hard to see you like this. You're erratic, and you're distant, and I don't know. Things should've gotten better in here, but it feels like the good's not beating the bad."

He nodded, a bit glumly, but tried not to show how much her words had stung. How much it hurt to know that Michonne, of all people, was losing her faith in him. "I don't know how to care about those people yet," he confessed, his voice hoarse as he came to the hard conclusion. "It's my kids, and it's you, and Daryl, and Glenn, and Carol, and everyone we arrived here with. I just haven't caught up yet."

"Well you need to catch up. Because I can't defend you to them anymore. I can't make excuses for why you're an asshole."

"Michonne-"

"Don't make me do that anymore," she returned with finality, as she completed the wrap-up job on his hand. "I've been trying so hard to have a life here, and you keep trying to snatch it away."

"I see..."

The dejection on his face would've ordinarily torn her apart, but she was in too much of a bad mood to try and make him feel better. "I'm not trying to make you feel shitty, I swear," she submitted quietly. "But I just don't have the space for pretense right now."

His gaze dropped to his hand, trying to focus on the pain in it instead of what Michonne was saying. "Did you wanna talk about it?"

"About what?"

"About what happened. With Glenn."

She shook her head, glancing past him, towards the window behind him. It was dark, but her brain was still looking for those signs of smoke from him. And as the tears stung in her eyes again, she covered her face with her hand to hide them from Rick. "I'd actually like to be alone," she whispered.

"It doesn't feel like you should be alone right now."

"Rick," she sighed as she stood from her chair, dragging it back to its rightful spot. She then walked toward her door and opened it for him. "I'm really not in the mood."

He stood, baffled by whatever distance this was between them. Disbelieving that she was actually kicking him out of her bedroom. After all they'd been through, it felt like a harsher punishment than whatever his crimes deserved. "I'm sorry," he offered softly as he approached her at the exit. "For whatever I did, whatever I didn't do…"

"Stop trying to trick me into talking to you."

"I just don't understand this coldness, Michonne. What happened?"

"Glenn is gone, and death is at our doorstep, and we can't do shit about it," she snapped. "I get to be sad about this." She shook her head, letting the tears go. It was too much to try and keep in at that point. "Just go, please."

And much as he didn't understand it, if she wanted him to go, he would. And so, he went.

* * *

_I am done_  
_Smoking gun  
_ _We've lost it all, the love is gone_

Hours later, Michonne was drowning her sorrows in a bottle of whiskey she'd found at the bottom of their pantry, and feeling a little better for it. It was almost 1:00am by her count, so their house was quiet. Still. And she enjoyed it, sitting on the staircase, alone, thinking about life. Life instead of death, in particular.

Rick had been right about one thing – Glenn could be out there. He could've been fine, and simply unable to send that smoke signal because of walkers surrounding him. They were everywhere, after all, but that didn't mean Glenn was gone. And she probably could've come to that conclusion quicker if she hadn't shut down with Rick. If she'd just confided in him, instead of giving up. If she had learned anything from him, it was that things weren't over until they were over.

She was headed towards the bottom of her bottle, pouring herself another glass, when she heard the rattle of the front door, quickly followed by Rick, slinking back into their home from wherever he'd been. He startled her, as she figured he had long since been in his room, holed up for the night. She took a deep breath, trying to decide whether she should apologize for the way she'd acted earlier, or just slip upstairs before he could notice her there.

But with the Jack Daniels flowing, she irrationally decided to do neither. "Where have you been?" she questioned. Her tone was calm, but stern.

He looked up from the foyer, surprised to find her sitting there, and he wiped at his mouth, feeling as though he'd just been caught committing a crime. "I was just… next door," he answered vaguely.

She knew that that meant he'd been at Jessie's, and she only took another sip from her glass. "You were over there all this time?"

"Most of it," he nodded, moving in closer to the bottom of the steps, resting his arm against the railing.

She stared at him for a moment, wondering if she was seeing the glisten of tears in his eyes, or something else. "Everything okay?"

Rick bowed his head, staring at the tips of his boots as he tried to decide whether he wanted to admit what he'd done. He wasn't sure that she would even care, but with the tension between them, it felt as though it would only make things worse. But then, so would lying. "I umm… " He exhaled shakily and looked up at her. "Jessie and I…"

It was then that Michonne noticed his clothes were more disheveled than usual. His shirt untucked, his curly hair flattened. And suddenly, she felt like she'd been stabbed in the chest. She smiled sarcastically, trying desperately to hide the actual pain and disgust behind it. "Wow."

_She has won_  
_Now it's no fun  
_ _We've lost it all, the love is gone_

"It wasn't – that wasn't what I meant to happen," he stammered, his eyes watering. "It just… things got out of hand. It happened quickly."

"I don't want your explanations, Rick. You don't owe me anything here."

He nodded, but knew she didn't even believe that herself. "I'm sorry."

"For what," she spat back.

"For not being who you think I am."

Michonne's lip began to quiver, and yet again, as much as she didn't want to show her hand, as much as she didn't want to cry – especially over him, over this – she couldn't stop herself. She couldn't make herself not care. "Why are you doing this?"

_And we had magic_  
_And this is tragic  
_ _You couldn't keep your hands to yourself_

"I feel like I'm drowning here, Michonne. And I'm terrified."

"So you go to her?" she croaked out. " _Her_?"

"You literally kicked me out," he said through his own tears. "What did you want me to do?"

"I wanted you to not run next door to the clueless stranger you met three weeks ago to fix all your problems."

"I thought she could make me feel… better."

"She's an ego boost, Rick. She's another problem. Not your solution."

"I know that now," he nodded. "Maybe… Maybe I knew it before, too. But I've been…" his words trailed off as he looked for the right word.

"Lonely?" she finished for him.

He nodded.

"And you think I haven't? You think it's been fun watching you chase this woman around? For you to act like  _she's_  your saving grace?" She cried hard as she spoke, and didn't care to pretend that it didn't hurt like hell. "She isn't half the friend I've been to you, Rick. I've saved your life. She didn't fucking do that, I did that," she reminded him. "And maybe it's my fault for thinking there was something there; or if there was, for not acting on it. But I  _hate_  who you've become since you met her." She finished what was left of her whiskey and harshly set her glass back down. "But hey, good on you for finding a pretty blonde to share your happy ending with."

_It feels like our world's been infected_  
_And somehow you left me neglected  
_ _We've found our lives been changed_

"I was thinking of you," he whispered, his voice nearly silent as he consumed her pain. He began to move up the stairs towards her, swallowing visibly the closer he got. "I know I shouldn't say that. It doesn't make it any better. Probably worse," he nodded, staring down at her feet now. "But it's the truth. The second I kissed her, I realized it should've been you."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to convince herself not to just push him down the steps. "Please get away from me," she requested calmly. Almost too calmly.

"I just wanna fix this," he pled, reaching out to her. "I wanna get back on track."

She immediately slapped his hand away, her drunken stoicism leading way to full on anger. "And what do I get, Rick? I get to walk around with the knowledge that you were with her first? Is it supposed to make me feel better that you supposedly wanted me, but you chose her, anyway?" She wiped her face and chin with the back of her hand, but her vision still blurred as she continued to cry. "What is it?" she demanded. "Am I too strong for you? Too black?" she questioned. "Too familiar?"

"You know it's not any of those things." The truth of the matter? She was simply too good for him.

"No, I actually don't know that. Because instead of talking to me about anything, you've spent the last three weeks running away from me. From all of us. And I'm sick of trying to catch up to wherever it is you're headed."

He knelt down in front of her, and they were nearly face-to-face as he stared at her, but she wouldn't look back. "Michonne."

She kept her head lowered, wiping at her tears as quickly as they came. "Get outta my face, Rick."

Instead of granting her wish, he rested his hands on her knees. "I'm telling you all this because I don't wanna lie. I'm trying here."

"You don't wanna lie," she repeated under her breath, scoffing as the words came out. She finally looked up at him, trying to displace her anger so that she could tell her own truth. "I can't do this anymore."

Rick's eyes darted across her face, searching for some sign that she wasn't serious. That she was just trying to make him feel as badly as he'd made her. "What?"

_Now I know you're sorry and we were sweet_  
_But you chose lust when you deceived me_  
_And you'll regret it, but it's too late  
_ _How can I ever trust you again?_

"I love you," she nodded, staring straight into his eyes. She didn't want there to be any mistake about what she was saying. "You brought me back from the edge of insanity. You and Carl were my saving grace when I needed one. And I can say that I was there when you needed me, too." She sighed shakily as she watched his own tears, mirroring hers, stream down his face in tiny waterfalls. "But I've outgrown this friendship."

"Michonne, you can't-" he tried to interrupt, to no avail.

"I'm not saying this because I'm angry. And make no mistake – I am angry. But I can't be the same person I've been to you, Rick. I can't keep giving and giving, and getting nothing in return. Letting you abandon me whenever the mood strikes you to be crazy. I  _won't._ "

"I tried to be there for you today, and you pushed me away."

"And instead of fighting for it, for me, you ran next door and fucked  _her_ ," she frowned. Just the thought made her sick to her stomach. "I deserve better than that. I deserve better than to be disgusted by someone I keep giving everything to."

_And we had magic_  
_And this is tragic  
_ _You couldn't keep your hands to yourself_

"Please don't do this," he begged, his body slumped over so that he was practically bowing at her feet. "I need you."

"I know you do," Michonne whispered over him, her tears falling over his head. "And I'm sorry you didn't see it sooner." She stood to leave, but he grabbed her hand to stop her, then wrapped his arms around her waist. He held on tightly, his face buried in her torso as he cried. "Rick," she sniffled, trying to peel his grip from her. But he didn't budge, didn't speak, he just held on desperately, too afraid of what would happen if he let go. "Get off of me," she begged.

He finally did release her, accidentally sending her empty glass down the steps as he stood to face her again. It made a loud crash, shattering into a hundred little pieces when it hit the floor. So apropos.

_It feels like our world's been infected_  
_And somehow you left me neglected  
_ _We found our lives been changed_

"I can… I can fix this," he quietly declared, just as she turned to leave. "I  _will_  fix this."

Michonne looked back at him, her stare softening, just a bit, upon hearing the anxiety in his voice. The fear in his eyes, begging for her not to give up on him. And she almost hoped he could fix it, because she hated the idea of losing this friendship for good. But even more, she hated the idea of opening herself up again, only to find herself in a similar position the next time they suffered a trauma. This didn't feel like something they could come back from. "I really don't think you can, Rick."

_Babe, you lost me_

* * *

Lyrics: "You Lost Me" - Christina Aguilera (Bionic)


End file.
